


Catching Falling Stars

by Nym_Blacktyde



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2016-06-05
Packaged: 2018-07-12 12:08:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7102681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nym_Blacktyde/pseuds/Nym_Blacktyde
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based off a waking dream I had, not edited/refined, but hope you like it!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Catching Falling Stars

**Author's Note:**

> Based off a waking dream I had, not edited/refined, but hope you like it!

There are scant hours left before dawn as Bellamy returns from his patrol shift. He doesn’t make for his quarters just yet though, he’s got one more job to do. He walks into the medical bay, and without surprise, finds Clarke resting head on folded arms at her station, patient files and personal notes scattered around her. He sighs, adjusting the strap of his gun so it rests on his back, and quietly walks up to her side, carefully avoiding her splinted leg as he crouches down next to her chair. Because of course she ignored his and others caution when retrieving one of the 100 from the base of a small cliff they had yet to discover, just the day before. She had climbed down with nothing but a thin rope at her waist, and had slipped several feet from the bottom, badly spraining her ankle in the fall when the rope gave way. He had grumbled at her all the way back to camp, especially since she ignored all help until after they had sent another person down to help her stabilize the victim, and together had secured them into a stretcher to lift them back up the ledge.  
Just as Bellamy reaches out to gently shake her good leg, hoping to spare her from at least a sore neck and back by moving her to a proper bed, he glimpses white knuckled-fists tucked under her arms, clenching sporadically, and sweat dotting her furrowed brow. His mouth tightens into a frown of concern. He moves his hand from her knee to hover over the back of her head, and after a moment’s deliberation, rests it atop her soft gold waves, and begins to try and sooth her into waking through gentle strokes of her hair.  
“Clarke,” he murmurs, his other hand coming up to gently rest on the tensed upper arm which half her face is burrowed into. “It’s just a dream Clarke, whatever it is you’re seeing, it’s over, come on, come back.” He maintains this mantra, gently trying to pry her into the waking world, and after a minute he feels her muscles relax, her shoulders shift, and he looks up into her face just as blue eyes flutter open, a tear making its way down her cheek.  
“Bellamy?” she whispers hoarsely, her face rising from the cradle of her arms, her throat swallowing convulsively, a completely different kind of exhausted branded into her gaze, lashes still wet with tears. Bellamy pets her hair again, squeezing with the hand still resting on her arm.  
“It’s me. You fell asleep in med bay again. Can I take you back to your room?” He loses her gaze when he mentions her room, and she sits up more fully, looking lost and small as she seems to search the space for something to counter his offer with.  
“That’s not….I still have files to—“ He moves his hands to the arms of her seat, and turns her to face him fully, still crouched down next to her.  
“Clarke, your body needs to rest. YOU need to rest.” Her lips tremble as her face crumples. Her head bows, and he pushes forward onto his knees seemingly simultaneously, coming up to wrap his arms around her, just as her head thumps against his chest. Clarke's small, agile hands clench the outside arms of his guard jacket tightly.  
“It’s all…..waiting…..every time I close my eyes….” her voiced is choked, and so tired, Bellamy tightens his grip on her, his lips pressing hard onto the crown of her head.  
“I know princess. But you’ll get through it, alright? It won’t be there forever.” He feels a small nod against his neck.  
“At least until the next major disaster strikes.” she mumbles, and he laughs, bringing a hand to her head.  
“Let’s get you to bed, huh? You can take mine tonight, it’s closer.” She starts to speak a protest, but then he’s detaching her from his front, and has her up in his arms before the first words are out of her mouth.  
“Bellamy, you don’t, I can walk, and you need to sleep as much as I do, you just got off a 10 hours shift, don’t lie to me, I know you did.” Bellamy can do nothing but smile though, because through the exhaustion-slurred words, she’s starting to sound like her relentlessly spirited self again. Bellamy is grateful to be there to give her a moment of respite from her role as the eye of the storm in their chaotic lives, but is happy to see her returning to more solid, familiar ground.  
“Yes, your majesty, whatever you say.” She resigns herself to him after that, and by the time he reaches his room, she is out like a light in his arms. He gingerly lowers her onto his cot, making sure she is carefully tucked in for the night, before moving to the less than comfortable chair by his writing desk. A rather pointed grunt makes him jerk his head around in surprise, to see Clarke has untucked herself, and scooted back against the wall on the far side of the bed, opening a small space of the bed to him. He raises an eyebrow at her, but her half open eyes leave no room for argument.  
“That chair will kill your back, you hypocrite, come on.”  
He sighs, ignoring the faint tripping in his pulse, before shedding his boots, gun and jacket, and carefully sliding into the bed next to Clarke, turning onto his side to face her in the dark. Clarke sighs, and her eyes slide shut, murmuring, “Thank you, Bellamy.” He reaches out and brushes a strand of hair from her eyes, her breathing already deepening again as she plunges into sleep once more.  
“Anytime, princess.”


End file.
